Some Kind of Home
by BandOfFanfic
Summary: An AU request by drovingallday96, Rita Howell is a trauma surgeon in the gulf war finding her bearings. In order to get through each day she has to learn to bury her emotions, but the arrival of a certain soldier makes it harder and harder. Joe Liebgott/OC
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is an AU which has been requested by drovingallday96**_**! "My Au idea for him and Rita is this. Rita, Eugene, and Spina are either medics or trauma surgeons in the Middle East in either the Gulf War or the conflicts in Iraq or Afghanistan. Joe and Easy Company are the men that are stationed with them."  
**_**I would like to point out that I know significantly less about these wars than I do about WW2 so if I get any facts, figures or treatments wrong then It's unintentional and I apologise. **

**I think I'll do it in more than one chapter and we shall see how well this goes! Thank you for the request and I hope you like it!**

**{Rita}**

"Sir, for the last time, _you __**CAN'T**__ stay in here!_" Spina shouted over the chaos. The man had come in with another soldier who was missing a large chunk out of his arm, and Roe, Spina and myself were desperately trying to stabilise him, me restraining his spazming body down against the table and the other two trying to sew up the wound. A flying piece of shrapnel had severed the artery and the soldier was in awful shape. His buddy just stood there, staring in horror at the sight, covered in bits of blood and flesh. He just stared, his hands shaking.  
"Howell, get that man out of here!" Ralph shouted, blood spurting over his face.  
"You got it!" I called back, standing up and wiping my bloody hands on my apron. I quickly walked over to the soldier and touched his forearm.  
"Sir, would you like to come get a coffee?" My grasp on his arm seemed to bring him abrubtly back to his senses, as he jumped and whirled to look at me, wide eyed.  
"What?" he asked hoarsely, rubbing a hand through his limp hair and smearing blood over his forehead.  
"Come with me, we can get some coffee whilst you wait on your buddy. Come on." I gently tugged him away from the operating theatre and he dumbly followed behind me, trying to see his friend all the way down to the kitchenette. I sat him down at an empty table and went to retrieve some coffee.  
"Hey Rita, when can I get the hell outta here?" came a voice from beside me. I smiled down at Popeye and ruffled his hair.  
"As soon as you can sit on your ass without a cushion, Wynn" I laughed, ruffling his hair. I walked over to the serving hatch.  
"Two coffees please. Black, with lots of sugar." I asked, looking over my shoulder at the soldier. He hadn't moved from where I'd left him, his gaze directly at his folded hands in his lap and I felt the little knot in my stomach tighten with sadness. Once the shock had worn off he would be fine, we got guys like this in all the time. The NCO's would send them in to prevent their moods from spreading. It was dangerous. Thanking the man for the coffee, I carried the two steaming mugs from the hatch back to the table, careful not to spill any, grabbing some paper napkins on the way past Hopefully the caffeine and sugar would snap him out of his haze.  
"Here you go. I asked them for it to be extra sweet, is that alright?" I asked as I sat down across from him, pushing the mug closer. He stared at me for a moment, then went back to staring blankly, this time at his mug. "What's your name, soldier?" I asked. His heavy eyes dragged back up to meet mine and I pushed his mug a little closer to him. "Drink" I smiled, nodding towards the coffee. "You'll feel better, even if it is just a little bit." Reaching out he grabbed the handle and took a long swig, shuddering a little as he swallowed. I don't blame him, I'm not a huge fan of coffee myself, but it was all we had.  
"Blithe" He mumbled. I cocked my head a little and he took a deep, shuddering sigh. "Bilthe. Albert Blithe, I'm here with Easy company. I've never had...I've never _seen..." _I reached out and put my hand over his. I knew exactly where he was coming from. I was the newest of the nurses to be shipped out here, and it had taken me most of my three month duration to not retch at the sight of someone's stomach hanging out never mind operate on them to get it back in. Blithe took another swig of his coffee and I saw a blood spattered Eugene enter the cafeteria and caught his eye. I felt my heart plummet as he waved me over, expression grave and eyebrows almost knitted together.  
"Excuse me a moment." I murmured, sliding out from behind the table. Blithe simply nodded and resumed staring blankly into space, his dirty fingers playing with the handle of his mug.  
"He came in too late. He'd lost too much blood..." I took a deep breath and nodded, looking back at Blithe's slumped form. There was no way we could send him back like that.  
"We should keep him here till he recovers."  
"He needs to go back." He replied firmly, not even letting me plead my case.  
"We can't send him back in that state, you know we cant!" I protested, gesturing behind me. "Look at him, Gene, he's in shock!"  
"We can't have you...babysitting him until he goes back to his company. We need you in the theatre, we're short of surgeons as it is, you know that!"  
"I know, but cant we just-" Eugene opened his mouth to intervene but I cut him off.  
"... just let him finish his coffee, at least." He sighed and looked me dead in the eye, a mixture of fond exasperation and mild annoyance flickering across his face.  
"We'll talk later, Rita." Came the firm dismissal. I nodded and tried to compose my expression, wiping my slightly sweaty palms on my apron and walked back through the cramped cafeteria to the table. Blithe looked up and smiled. A small, forced smile which made me feel even more awful for what I was about to say. I forced a smile in return and sat back down at the table, downing the rest of my coffee. I was busy formulating a way to break it to him that his buddy had died, but before I'd gotten past the '_I'm sorry'_, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet, putting his helmet back on his head.  
"I should probably get back." He stated, noticing the confusion on my face. "Thanks for the coffee. You were right, it did help a little." I smiled, more in relief than in anything else and made to show him the way out, ignoring his polite refusals.  
"I don't want to see you back in here again." I joked, pushing him gently back out into the hot sun. "Don't get yourself killed."  
"I'll try my hardest, Ma'am." He smiled in response and I watched him walk away.

XXX

"We need to get you over this." Ralph said decisively, throwing himself into a chair beside me. "We can't keep doing this, people will come and go and people will get killed or injured and you can _not_ let it affect you like that!" I felt the need to defend myself, even though he was right.  
"I was fine in surgery, it was the guys friend that I felt bad for!"  
"Don't try and change the subject, Howell, my point is that this isn't the first time something like this has happened!" Eugene sighed and pulled a bar of chocolate from his drawer and broke it into thirds, tossing Ralph and I a chunk each.  
" Spina's right, Rita," He stated, his low Cajun drawl strangely soothing. "It's not good for you to feel like you need to carry the responsibility of the world. It's not good for the men to see their medics like that, they need people to act stronger than they feel. You need to come across as if nothing phases you, you need to do what you gotta do and move on. Think about it all you like later, just before you go to sleep or when you're having a smoke, whenever. But don't let it show through like you did today, understand? There's no attatchment between you and these men."  
"Got it." I mumbled, getting to my feet.  
"Where are you going?" Ralph asked, kicking his feet up onto the table in the corner.  
"Im gonna go get myself a cup of coffee then clean up."  
"Bring us a cup back!" Ralph hollered just as the door shut behind me. I pulled off the stupid headband that I was required to wear, tossing it onto my bed as I walked into my cupboard sized bedroom. Grabbing the mountain of paperwork from a shelf I hunted for a pen, stuck it behind my ear then set out for a night of tedious paperwork. It was almost midnight, but thankfully the cafeteria was still open, a new boy who couldn't have been older than 19 wiping down the aluminium surfaces, a few wounded men scattered around the tables. I nodded in the general direction of them, forcing a smile if one shouted their "Hello Rita!"'s at me.  
"A black coffee, please. Three sugars" I mumbled at the newbie. He nodded, setting down his cloth and turning to the coffee machine. There was so much paperwork still to fill out and I was exhausted, caffeine was the only way forward. My gaze was fixed on the group of men playing cards on the table to my left, I smiled a little to myself as they cursed at each other and smoked, occasionally whooping with delight as they hauled in a small pile of money and other valuables.  
"Here's your coffee ma'am." The new boy said, tapping me on the arm. I turned and smiled, nodding my thanks and ambling over to a table in the corner, balancing my coffee mug ontop of the large pile of paper. Sighing deeply, I picked up my pen and began to write.

After my sixth cup of coffee it was two am and I had made quite a dent in the paperwork, but nothing was going to keep me awake. I had shoo'd the few men off to bed around a half hour ago and I was just about to follow suit. My eyes were drooping, too heavy to stay open of their own accord and I could barely see what I was writing anymore. The last three sentences of my report were floating anywhere but the line, some words were even written on top of each other. "_Time to call it a night_" I thought, gathering up all of the loose sheets of paper and stumbling through to my room. I shucked my uniform and pulled on my oversized t-shirt and pyjama trousers and collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to clamber under the covers. I groaned as loudly as I could as I heard a knock at the door.  
"Whhaaaaaaatttt?"  
"Rita?"  
"Whaddya want, Spina?!"  
"Where the fuck is my coffee?" I reached over the side of my bed, face still buried into my pillow and threw my shoe at the door, inwardly cursing him as I heard his stupid snickering coming from the other side of the door.  
"Piss off!" I grumbled into my pillow, and promptly fell asleep, the rock hard pillow feeling like a cloud.

**AN: Please leave a wee review letting me know what you think! Thank you very much for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**{Rita's POV}**

I was jerked awake by the three sharp raps on my door. I groaned and pushed myself out of bed, rapping the door a few times to let Ralph know that I was up and at 'em. Well. I was up. Rubbing my eyes, I sleepily hauled a fresh uniform on and ran a brush through my hair, pulling it back into its regulation ponytail. I slipped on my shoes and quickly brushed my teeth in the small aluminium sink in the corner. Looking in the mirror above the sink I took a deep breath and fixed the cap on top of my head. Another day, another bloodstained uniform. I checked my watch and cursed a little, there was no time for breakfast and I was starving. I left my room quickly, making sure to lock up behind me.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. I didn't know you spoke in your sleep, I could hear you from here!" Ralph laughed as I walked in, tossing an apple in my direction. I glared and took a huge bite; there was never time to savour things anymore.  
"Where's Eugene?" I asked, throwing on a clean apron and organising my tools. Eugene liked us all to carry an emergency medical kit at all times, and there was nothing worse than someone hollering for a mouth-to-mouth resuscitator and it being missing from your kit.  
"He's still asleep, he had a rough night. We'll let him sleep in- we can handle this by ourself." I nodded and sat down on the table. Our shift didn't start until 5:30, but I was anxious to get started, Eugene's words from the night before running through my mind. It was a challenge, and I was desperate to prove to myself that I could do it. There was no way I was going to fail. Operate, send to a 'ward', move on. Operate, send to a ward, move on. No emotion. You have to be their rock. The alarm clock rang out and I took a deep breath to steady myself. I could do this.

XXX

The putrid smell of burning flesh still lingered, even though the last patient was long gone. Edward Tipper had been clearing a house with another soldier and had been horribly wounded by an explosion. Both of his legs had been broken, most likely ruptured eardrums and half of his face had been horribly burned, the flesh above his eye looked as if it had been melted downwards, the rest of his face charred almost black. The worrying thing was that I'd seen worse. Thankfully, we'd managed to stabilise him, putting both of his legs in a cast and we'd wrapped his face in a gauze bandage and fed him some painkillers. He was surprisingly docile, probably struck dumb with shock, but through the entire procedure he'd grasped the hem of my apron and did not let go. I tried to ignore his grasp, but I couldn't. It was as if the grip on my apron was grounding him, keeping him down to earth. The room was covered in blood and little bits of flesh, and I had been left to clear up. For the third time that hour, I emptied the bucket of bloody water out and re-filled it, chucking some disinfectant in and I began to wipe down the operating table, feeling a little bad for Tipper. Maybe before I went to bed I would go up and see how he was getting on...No, bad Rita! Not supposed to feel sorry for the soldiers! There was a sharp knocking at the door, abruptly jerking me from my thoughts and I jumped about a foot in the air. The soldier who had come in with Tipper stood at the door, impatiently chapping at the glass. I sighed and threw the cloth into the bucket, walking over to the door. Putting on my 'stern' expression I opened the door.  
"Can I help you?" I asked. Ignoring my question, he pushed past me into the theatre and jumped on top of my freshly washed operating table.  
"What do you think you're doing?!" I exclaimed, pushing him off the table. He stumbled as he landed and I was rewarded with a deadly glare. He leaned against the table, arms crossed.  
"My buddy came in a while back, I came to check up on him. Ed Tipper?" I crossed my arms too, standing up a little straighter.  
"Well I'm sorry, _Sir,_ but he came out of surgery an hour ago. He's in a ward downstairs, you can raise hell with them." He unfolded his arms and took a few steps towards me, eyes narrowed. I stood my ground, an eyebrow raised.  
"Listen, Lady..." he began, poking a finger into my chest. I pushed his arm away and sidestepped him, picking up the bucket and setting it on the counter.  
"I'm sorry but I can't help you." I announced, wiping down the countertop with my back to the soldier. "If you'd like I can help you find him during my break, which is in ten minutes, but for the moment you're gonna have to go to the cafeteria and wait. Grab yourself a coffee or something."  
"I'm staying here." He said decisively. I growled under my breath and resisted the urge to bash my head off of the hard surface. Talking to this guy was driving me insane!  
"Look, you _can't _stay in here, you need to leave."  
"Make me."  
"You'll get me in trouble." I warned  
"That's a shame." He retorted, not moving from his spot.  
"Arrogant twat..." I hissed through my teeth, sloshing the water down the sink a little more violently than usual. I heard him snicker behind me, and I slowly turned to face him. He still stood leaning back against the operating table, his eyes shining with mirth and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. I untied my apron at the back and threw it into the wash basket in the corner, feeling a little sad at the bloodied handprint in the bottom corner. Grabbing the soldier by the sleeve I dragged him out of the room. He smirked and pulled his sleeve free, following me to the cafeteria.  
"I just need to tell my boss where I'm going so he knows where I am. You are going to stay right herehere." I held a hand up as he went to protest and pointed to a table. "You are going to stay here. Get a coffee and _stay there_." Scowling, he walked over to the hatch, and I turned to find the makeshift staff room. I chapped the door gently and I heard Eugene call for me to come in. I smiled at him, leaning against the doorframe. He looked awful, his face was pale and he had huge purple bags under his eyes. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly, his eyelids drooping a little.  
"What can I do for you, Rita?" He asked tiredly. I walked over and sat on the edge of his desk, concern creasing my forehead. The room was almost pitch black, the only light coming from the small desk lamp perched on top of a few medical books. There was a slight stink of stale smoke hanging around the room  
"You okay, Eugene? Can I get you anything?" He forced a smile on his face and shook his head.  
"I'll be fine. Now, you came here for something?"  
"Is it ok if I take a break a little longer than usual? There's a soldier who wants to see his buddy in the burn ward and I said I'd take him." Gene nodded and waved me out.  
"I'll grab you a coffee on the way back, ok?"  
"Sure thing Rita."

XXX

I was back in the cafeteria with my mountain of paperwork. I'd shown the American soldier to his friends ward and he had assured me that he could make his way back on his own, so I left them to their own devices. After confiscating his cigarettes, much to their chagrin. I ploughed through the work, grumbling and groaning to myself, the only thought keeping me going was the delicious slice of chocolate cake I'd bribed the newbie into hiding for me. I was almost drooling. It'd been a somewhat quiet afternoon, two or three minor injuries to be cleaned up and I was hoping it'd stay that way. When I'd brought Eugene his coffee he was fast asleep, his head in his arms. I let him sleep, he looked like he could use it. Resisting the urge to slam my head off the table I forced myself to get a move on with it. The quicker I do it, the quicker I can forget about it. Think of the cake! With an internal scream of relief I threw my pen down and massaged my wrist. Thank sweet holy Jesus _that_ was over! I put my coffee cup on top of the pile to stop it flying away and practically ran up to the hatchet.  
"Is my cake slice still there?" I asked breathlessly, bouncing on my toes. Newbie laughed and I peered at his nametag. Oh, Dan! I had to remember that.  
"Sure is, Rita." He smiled, pulling a plate out from the fridge and sliding it across the counter. I leaned against the counter and took a massive bite out of the chocolate cake, groaning with pleasure.  
"Mmmffh I've waited six hours for this" I murmured around a mouthful of food, my eyes fluttering closed. Just as I about to take my second bite Ralph flew into the cafeteria, blood soaking his hands and clothes.  
"Rita you're needed in surgery. _Now._" I suppressed my frustration and threw the plate back onto the counter, grabbing my apron and paperwork as I ran past the table. I ran to the theatre, tying my apron as I entered. Eugene and Ralph were crowded around a soldiers head, one putting a canula In the back of his hand, the other frantically trying to stop the blood pouring from a soldiers neck. The soldier was shaking violently and gasping for breath, blood staining all up his face, hair and uniform.  
"What do we have here?" I asked, shining a torch in his eyes.  
"Sniper wound to the neck, punctured his windpipe, all we need from you right now is to put a fuckload of pressure on there." Ralph said through his teeth. I snatched a bandage from the counter and put it over the wound, putting as much weight as I could on there. The soldier looked disturbingly familiar, a thought I stored at the back of my mind.  
"Has he been issued any morphine?" I asked, accepting the needle from Eugene, who nodded his head slightly. I focused intently on the patient's neck, sewing it up slowly and carefully. Eventually I stood back and held my hands out for the sterile bandages.  
"Thanks, Miss Howell." Came a raspy smile from the soldier. Realisation hit me like a train when I realised why I recognised the soldier, and I had to force my face back into its professional mask.  
"I thought I told you _not _to get hurt." I replied, taping up the last of the bandage. "Now, if you'll come with me, I'll get you to your ward..."

XXX

Once again I was in the cafeteria. I wasn't in the mood for another chat with Dan and, thankfully, he'd left me alone with a fresh piece of cake and a cup of coffee. I was back in my corner up the back, attempting to read my book, but I just couldn't get into it. My cake was half eaten, and to my displeasure, my coffee was cold. Just as I was about to get yet another cup, I spotted the cheeky American soldier walk past the door for the third time. Smirking, I sat back down and kept my eyes pinned on the door. The first time he'd walked past I'd suggested he was lost, which he vehemently denied. I was going to wait and see how many more times he'd pass the cafeteria before admitting defeat. After he walked past for the fifth time, I took pity on him and went to help, grabbing my book.  
"Are you sure I can't help you leave?" I asked, falling into step beside him.  
"I'm can get out by myself." He replied, sticking his nose into the air and colliding with a bedding trolley. I covered my mouth with my hands trying my hardest to smother my giggles.  
"Ok ok, I could use a hand..." He grumbled, rubbing his chest.  
"Don't worry, it took me forever to remember the way out."  
"Good for you."  
"You know, a 'thank you' would suffice." I commented, nodding a hello to a few other patients.  
"It's not your job to teach me manners; it's your job to treat people." Came the petulant retort. I rolled my eyes and took a calming breath.  
"It's also not my job to show you to the door, but I'm doing it anyways."  
He opened his mouth respond but, surprisingly, closed it again. I smiled a little. The remainder of our journey was spent in silence, me running a hand along the wall and him scuffing his feet like a scolded toddler. Eventually we reached the exit and I think we were both relieved to escape the awkward walk. He turned to go out the door, but before he left he turned and sighed, his gaze fixed on the floor.  
"Uh, thanks... I guess." I smiled a little and pulled his cigarettes from my pocket and threw them to him.  
"You're welcome... uh..."  
"Joe. It's Joe." He replied, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.  
"You're welcome Joe. Don't get hurt." I laughed as he exited the hospital into the bright sunlight. He threw up his middle finger over his shoulder and snickering, I closed the door.

**AN: Sorry this took as long to upload, I may or may not have spilled a little tea on my keyboard and it started going mental so I left it for a while and hoped for the best. Go-to fix it method, works every time. But yeah, here it is (finally) so I hope you enjoy and I shall update a lot quicker with the next chapter. Please leave a review, and if you have any Au ideas for Joe and Rita, please let me know! **


	3. Chapter 3

**R{Rita's POV}**

"Rita, we need you in triage for a moment." Ralph said, poking his head around my bedroom door. I looked longingly at the steaming mug of tea sitting beside a freshly opened book, and looked back to Gene whilst pulling the best puppy eyes I could. It had been a week since Albert Blithe had been shipped back to the states to recover, and since then Eugene, Ralph and I had been running almost 18 hour shifts. Shortage of nurses was a massive understatement. A group of nurses had come in from America and Canada yesterday which meant we finally got a rest up. At the moment, we were slouching around my microscopic bedroom drinking tea and telling stories about previous weird and wonderful casualties.  
"Please, Gene, I haven't had a proper break all week!" I begged. He laughed a little and pulled me off my chair, pushing me towards the door.  
"It just needs cleaning and stitching, no big deal. Please?" Groaning loudly, I dragged my feet along to triage, cursing and grumbling under my breath.  
"You're lucky I like you two!" I called over my shoulder, smiling a little at the resounding laughter. Turning the corner into triage, I felt my mouth drop open and my heart swell a little at the slightly adorable scene. I'd recognise that slumped figure anywhere. He was slouched so far in his chair he was almost sitting on the floor, his feet kicked up onto the counter and his helmet over his face, fast asleep and making little snorey noises. I walked over and snatched the helmet from his face and gently hit him on the top of the head with it, waking him with a massive start, the shock from his abrupt awakening sliding him that little bit too far down his chair, resulting in his rear end slipping off the chair and he landed on the floor with a thump.  
"Ow! Jesus fucking Christ, do you treat all your casualties like that?! That's a fuckin' broken tailbone to add to the list." Joe cursed, hauling himself to his feet and sitting back in the chair. I smirked, only feeling a little guilty.  
"I thought I'd told you _not _to get yourself hurt." I replied conversationally, pulling a chair up beside his. "So what've you done to yourself?"  
Scowling he muttered something about dirty bastards, a shrapnel wound to the neck and not wanting to be here. Giggling, I pulled antiseptic, sterile bandages and a 'sewing kit' from one of the cupboards and kicked a chair over beside his, pushing the trolley beside it with a foot. There was a hastily wrapped bandage sitting askew over his filthy neck, blood and dirt staining the white cotton a murky brown.  
"Ok, im gonna need to cut away some of your shirt to get at the wound better. Then I'm gonna clean the wound then sew it up." I murmured as I pulled my chair closer to his for a better look at the wound." I explained, lifting the sterile scissors and carefully pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck and slicing into the fabric, cutting away the material around his collarbone.  
"Hmm... we should probably keep you here for a couple hours after that so that it has a chance to heal over slightly. We don't want the stitches tearing."  
"Whatever, just get it done."  
"This'll sting a wee bit..." I replied, pressing the cotton pad to his neck. He flinched away a little but mostly sat still, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists slightly.  
"To be honest," I began whilst dabbing carefully at his filthy neck, "You are one of the first men to come who hasn't been shot in the butt. We had a big guy in earlier on, Buck I think his name was, one bullet gave him four holes." I felt Joe shake a little and looked up and saw him snickering, a smirk spreading along his face. Unable to keep the smile from my own face I directed my gaze back to the wound.  
"Yeah, its kind of an Easy company tradition gettin' shot in the ass."  
I leaned over and threw the muddied and bloodied shirt snippet and cotton pads into the bin in the corner. I picked up an alcohol wipe and cleaned away a large square of skin so that I could see where I was working a little better. When the needle first pierced the skin a hiss of air escaped from between his teeth, but by the third stitch he barely flinched, choosing instead to interrogate me.  
"So what's your name, lady?" he asked, just as I finished the last stitch.  
"Rita. Rita Howell."  
"So Rita, Rita Howell, what're the chances of me getting a decent cup of coffee here?"  
"Slim to none" I laughed, pushing my chair back and making to wash my hands. "It all tastes like rubbish." I nudged him towards the door and pulled a mop and bucket out of a cupboard. Even though there hadn't been a lot of blood- and none on the floor- I still had to disinfect the room or Eugene would have my head. I don't blame him. I realised after five minutes that Joe was still standing by the doorway, watching me mop the floor.  
"D'ya remember how to get to the cafeteria?"  
"Do I fuck."  
"Charming..."

XXX  
"Another two coffees please Dan. And a glass of water." I said, leaning against the counter and pulling a pill case from my pocket. He nodded and started up the machine, pulling cupboards and drawers open. Joe and I had just finished a rather heated debate over the validity of psychology and although I was pleasantly surprised at Joe's counter-argument, his smart ass replies when he could feel himself losing were becoming incredibly tedious. More than once I'd become distracted by how passionate he became during a conflict of interests; his eyes would burn with passion or become cloudy whenever he thought a point through. Once we had finished our debate, both snickering from the funny looks we were receiving , we were both pretty thirsty. An hour and a half straight'll do that.  
"You looked like you didn't know whether to kiss him or smash a plate over his head." Dan commented. Downing the glass of water he placed in front of me in one I replied "Do you have any plates to spare?" He chuckled and added the sugars and milk to the coffee, setting out plates and napkins.  
"Should I be expecting another midnight coffee binge tonight?" He asked with his trademark toothy smile.  
"Not tonight, now that the replacements are in I'm only on nightshifts Monday and Thursday, thank God!" I saw disappointment flicker over his face for a moment and then it was gone, hastily hidden behind a grin. Sliding the coffee cups over the counter he reached under the counter into the fridge and pulled out a slice of chocolate cake with a flourish, handing it to me. I grinned and balanced the plate on my forearm, my hands occupied with the two mugs.  
"Since you never got to finish your last slice, I thought you'd like another. So I'll see you Monday?"  
"It's a date." I agreed, starting my careful walk back to the table. "Thank you for the cake!"  
"I want that plate back in one piece, Rita!" He shouted and I laughed, almost dropping the precariously balanced plate on the floor. Joe's eyes widened as I sat the cake down and he made a grab for it, complaining when I slapped his hand away. I sighed at his stupid puppy eyes and split the cake in half with the side of the fork, pushing one half further along the plate and passing the fork to him, picking up my teaspoon and digging into my half. He hesitated and I nudged the plate a little closer to him, smiling.  
"Go on, I'm kicking you out in about ten minutes. You've been here an hour longer than you needed to be."  
Joe took this as his queue to start eating and dug in, eating most of my half as well as his own.  
"One of these days," I thought, licking the icing from my spoon "I will get an entire slice of cake all to myself and that day will be glorious." I blinked, startled as Joe waved his hand in front of my eyes.  
"Helloo, earth to Rita! You wanna game of cards or somethin'?" Snickering I shook my head and got to my feet, placing my hands on my hips.  
"Nice try, Liebgott. Get your arse out of here and back to your company."  
"But-" he began, narrowing his eyes as I slapped a hand over his mouth.  
"Shift it, buddy. And for gods sake, stop licking my hand!"  
Grumbling, he got to his feet and scowling he swiped his helmet from the table, batting my hand away as I wiped it on his shirt.  
"You're disgusting."  
"It's your spit!" I replied indignantly, gently shoving him. He shoved me back, smirking, effectively starting a shove war. Giggling, we spent at least fifteen minutes shoving eachother into random objects, doors and corridors, occasionally dragging the other down with us. Eventually we reached the door, laughing and breathless.  
"See you around, Lieb. Seriously, don't get yourself hurt... again. Come back in a few days so I can change your dressings."  
"Jesus, I'll try, _mom." _He snapped back, the smile on his face betraying how peeved he was acting.  
"On you go then, bugger off." I laughed, pushing him out of the door. He waved goodbye and I leaned against the doorframe, watching is retreating figure. I jumped a little as I heard someone tutting slowly behind me.  
"Dear oh dear." Ralph lamented, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "You're gonna have to let Dan down gently..."

**AN: Oops, this was supposed to be updated ages ago...sorry. I've had exams and stuff but they're finally over, so here we are! Im gonna be honest, I have no idea where im going with this story, but I'll figure it out soon. Thank you very much for reading and please leave a review! **


	4. Chapter 4

"_Honestly _darling, I still don't understand the appeal of being elbow deep in blood and gore for a living. You look like death warmed up, those bags under your eyes are simply ridiculous; haven't you been sleeping?! They run you off your feet at that godforsaken place, darling, you're clearly mad. Daddy says the offer of a scholarship at his Law School is still wide open and you can come home to it any time you like. Auntie Margie was asking after you, her son goes to Daddies law school, maybe we could meet up with them when you come back home. Maybe we can get you into a nice university too, get you to study journalism or Law or maybe you could study to be a respectable GP, instead of this whole trauma nurse business! Oh _do_ stop rolling your eyes at me, sweetheart, it's so un-ladylike. And when was the last time you even _looked_ at a hairbrush, you're all over rats tails, you're old enough to know to do these things by yourself!"

"Yes mum. _No_ mum. Mum I brushed my hair this morning... well not _this_ morning exactly but I brushed it yesterday at some point. Mum, you know I'd rather throw myself off of a cliff rather than study law! Im out here because I want to help people, I want to save lives!"  
I may as well have been talking to myself. Or slamming my face off of the table, it would have been less painful. Here I was, wasting one of my (thankfully, much more frequent) breaks after a gruelling, yet satisfactory 16 hour shift talking to my mother via Skype in Eugene's room. She was a loving mother, but I definitely came as a disappointment to her. Where she wanted a daughter to dress up like a china doll and show off to her friends or to be the smartest in my classes with a trail of boys just waiting to ask me out. Instead, my childhood mostly consisted of my mother pulling me out of trees and mud and watching as I averaged in classes and stayed single all through secondary school. It only seemed to bother her, my father too busy at work to notice anything and my Grandfather was supportive of whatever I wanted to do. I didn't quite understand how mum could gibber on and on about Mr Trinnick's new begonias or how Mrs Caulfield's daughter was caught with her fiancée's _brother! ("_Absolutely appalling behaviour if you ask me!") when people were coming into this hospital missing legs or arms or at death's door. I'd stitched someone's stomach back into their body yesterday. Drifiting away into my own thoughts, occasionally nodding and "mh-hm"ing I became fascinated with the callouses covering my hands.  
"Darling are you even listening to me?" came the tinny voice pulling me from my thoughts. "You need to get yourself a nice new dress and buy a little makeup to cover up those atrocious bags underneath your eyes. Honestly, you look a state! They work you far too hard at that place. Would you like to talk to your father?"  
"No, mum, I _really_ need to go! I love you, see you when I see you bye!"

I clicked the hang up button and slammed the laptop screen closed, letting out a massively deep breath. Maybe one day I'd be able to see eye to eye with her over my career choices but today was definitely not one of those days. Pushing the chair back from Ralph's desk I closed my eyes and slumped so far down in my chair I was basically propping myself against it.  
"For heavens _sake_, Rita, don't sit like that! Close your legs, you are beyond un-ladylike!"  
The voice was so uncannily like my mother's that I instantly flew upright into my seat and sat as straight backed as possible, realising then that the voice came from Eugene at the door and not Ralph's laptop. I growled a little under my breath and rested my head ontop of the closed laptop.  
"There is a soldier outside..." He began, standing behind my chair and slowly spinning it "With a very weird name who is _demanding_ your immediate attention."  
"How weird is the weird name? I've had a couple of pretty weird ones..." I had, aswell. Many of the men who came in had weird and wonderful names. My particular favourite was a friendly guy called Guarnere and the guys that brought him in kept calling him Gonorrhoea.  
"Lieb something I think. Scrawny guy, big nose, adamant that it was you he saw, needs his bandages changed." I looked up at Gene and he grinned at me. "Dont worry, Ralph's told me everything about your little love triangle..."  
"Love triangle?!" I asked incredulously. "I'm not in a love triangle!"  
"Oh no, who's gonna break it to Dan?" He teased, giving my chair a final spin. I groaned and pulled my shoes on, side stepping the bed to retrieve my medical bag.  
"This man is gonna be the death of me..." I grumbled. Laughing, Gene frogmarched me out of the door into the hallway. I'd tried my hardest to shove any thoughts relating to Joe to the farthest flung corner of my mind, I really had. But I still found my thoughts somewhat drifting back to his stupid nose and his mouth and the little dunkle at the base of his neck...  
"Exam room three." Eugene grinned, giving me a final shove and closing the door. "Bring a couple of coffees back with you!"  
Sticking my tongue out at the closed door I slowly shuffled along to the exam room. The corridors were surprisingly busy, with a mishmash of soldiers from every company and almost every range of injury. I smiled and said hello to as many as possible, striking up a conversation whenever I could to prolong my journey. It wasn't that I didn't like Joe-I did, very much so- but he had to have been one of the most irritating men to walk the earth and I had had my dose of arrogance today. Plus I enjoyed blethering away to the soldiers; finding out how they were doing and hearing the different tales and stories they'd tell me. Most of them were for the sole purpose of embarrassing their friends but I really liked getting to know them. Finally, after fifteen minutes of chattering with at least five men, I arrived at the exam room. My mood had elevated drastically in the space of that fifteen minutes and I felt mentally prepared to face the onslaught of snarky comments and smartass responses. I keeked in the little window before I went in, and as I assumed, he had made himself right at home, feet kicked up and his jacket and helmet carelessly tossed to the side.  
"You took your time."  
"Hello to you too, Joe. I didn't expect you back for a while. Get your feet off of that table." I said briskly, pushing his feet off of the examination table. He folded his arm and raised an eyebrow, watching me fill a little glass bowl with boiling water and TCP. Grabbing some cotton wipes from the countertop I crouched beside Joe and gently peeled the old bandaging away from his neck.  
"You're quiet today Rita, Rita Howell." He commented as I carefully cleaned the dirt and general grime from his healing wound.  
"Mhm." I murmured, only really half listening. "Ok, you've healed up quicker than I thought you would, we can take your stitches out now..." I returned too cleaning his neck, tugging at the collar of his shirt to get it out of the road. "I've left my scalpel and tweezers in the other room, hang on, I'll go get them. And the scissors, your shirt's getting in the way again."  
"You're not even fuckin' listening to me, are ya?" Joe mumbled, picking at the dirt in his nails.  
"Sorry, I was kind of in my own wee world. What is it you were saying?"  
"I _said_ I cant afford for you to cut up any more of my goddamn shirts. I'll just fuckin' take the stupid thing off." Ok, I'll admit it. I stared a little. Oh, alright I stared a lot. He began to unbutton the khaki green shirt and tossed it in my general direction. I caught it just before it hit the floor and turned away to fold it, neatly setting it down on the counter. In the course of my reaching over to empty the contents of the glass bowl down the sink I became slightly distracted by Joe pulling his white t-shirt over his head. I swallowed a little as his back and shoulder muscles flexed , the pale skin streaked with dirt and sweat. The results of rigorous army training were clearly evident, the muscles in his arms larger than they looked before and, as he turned to face me I could see the lean muscles in his chest and the pronounced abdominal muscles. I couldn't have averted my eyes if my life depended on it. Mentally slapping myself back into reality, I quickly spun on my heel and began to re-fill the bowl making sure the water was _exactly_ the right temperature and I had mixed _exactly _the right amount of TCP into it before turning back to face Joe. He'd sat himself back in the metal chair, sitting almost awkwardly upright, arms folded once again.  
"Um... I'll- I'll just go and get the scalpel."  
I quickly walked out of the suddenly very cramped room and took a few deep breaths, trying to get my bearings again. I was not expecting that reaction... _Goddamnit, Rita, Pull yourself together..._ I grabbed the scalpel and tweezers from the little kit in the exam room next door and composed myself before walking back into the room.  
Trying to act as normal as possible I took my position crouching beside him, trying my hardest not to get distracted by his collarbones. Easier said than done.  
"You've gone bright red." Joe commented, smirking a little. God I hated that smirk... Ignoring his comment I returned to cleaning his wound, avoiding any contact with skin I wasn't cleaning.  
"Ok, try and move as little as possible, getting scalpeled in the neck won't be fun for anyone." I said, carefully sliding the scalpel under the first stitch and flicking it upwards, picking up the thread with the tweezers.  
"Scalpeled? Is that a word?" Joe snickered.  
"It is now. Now shusht and let me focus..."

The next fifteen minutes were spent in silence. I had forced myself into a nurses mindset and was slowly and meticulously cutting and tweezering. Eventually I finished and gave the wound a once over with an antiseptic wipe.  
"There, you're all done." I smiled, getting myself to my feet and wiped my hands on my apron. I began to tidy up, emptying the soloution down the sink once again and let the scalpel and tweezers soak in disinfectant. I realised that Joe hadn't moved an inch since I'd finished, choosing instead to watch me work. I felt sort of uncomfortable being watched, and very self conscious. Pulling the mop and bucket out of the cupboard to give the floor a quick clean I leaned the mop against the counter and stuck the bucket in the sink, turning the hot water tap on full blast. I jumped as I suddenly felt Joe standing behind me, watching what I was doing over my shoulder.  
"Goddamnit, don't _do_ that!" he took a step closer and I was suddenly hyper-aware of how close we actually were.  
"Do what?" he asked, voice low. I floundered for words, taking another step backwards to try and put some distance between us. I soon discovered that this was in vain, as each of my steps backward was mirrored by him taking a step forward.  
"Joe, you really should go back..." I suggested, putting my hands on his chest to try and push him away a little. Soon, I was backed up against the counter with nowhere to retreat to, and Joe smirked down at me once again.  
"But we both know you don't really want that." He murmured, bending down and pressing his lips against mine. Frozen for a second, I stood stock still, eyes wide open, until Joe angled his head a little and slipped his hands around my waist. Relaxing a little, I moved my arms from his chest to wrapping them lightly around his neck, tangling my a hand in his shaggy hair and playing with the chain of his dog tags with the other. Pulling back a little, Joe gently lifted me by the waist and sat me on the counter top, hungrily resuming the kiss, gently nibbling my lower lip. I sighed into the kiss, pulling him in closer by his hair, wrapping my legs around his body and locking my ankles. His lips migrated from my lips to my jawline and his hands moved from my waist to the nape of my neck, twining his fingers into the curls. I giggled a little, gently pulling him back into another kiss.  
"Hey Rita, Eugene came by and he wants to know what's taking you so lo- oh my god!"  
I cursed vehemently under my breath and pushed Joe away as I leapt off the countertop, only to see Dan standing holding the door open, jaw almost reaching the floor and his eyes alight with disbelief.  
"Dan..." I began holding a hand up.  
"Don't worry, I wont tell." He practically spat, turning to stalk off. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "You have a hickey on your neck."  
I flinched a little as the door slammed shut. I looked back over at Joe and couldn't hold in the giggles. We lost it entirely.  
"I shouldn't find this funny..." I said in between my laughs, struggling for breath and tears forming in my eyes. "I really shouldn't laugh, but the look on his _face_." Joe had collected himself long before I did and in that time he had pulled his top and shirt back on, watching me with a massive snicker. Taking deep breaths to get myself together I slowly came back to earth.  
"You need to get back. Do you remember where the exit is?"  
"Yeah, I think so. Hey, d'ya think I can get a cup of coffee on the way out?" Joe asked, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. I started to laugh again, and gently pushed him towards the door.  
"Go on, get outta here, you're gonna get me into trouble."  
"Yessir!" he saluted, leaning in for a final kiss. Quickly kissing him, I gave him one last shove so that he was out the door. Unable to stop smiling I waved goodbye, giggling a little to myself. Once he turned a corner and disappeared from sight I sighed happily and turned back into the flooded room. Wait, flooded?  
"Oh shit.."

**AN: Dan you humungous cockblock! I literally wrote this chapter at least 7 times before I was happy with it. I also uploaded a oneshot earlier this week and I've decided whenever I get writers block or whatever im gonna do a oneshot then get back to writing the main story. So yes, I hope you enjoy this chapter and pretty please leave a review! Thanks for reading**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:I AM SO SORRY! Just before we begin, I really am, but something happened in the family that's had a huge effect on everyone and I've not really had time to write anything. I've already started chapter six so hopefully that'll be up a lot sooner. I hope you're having a much better month than I have had and I hope you enjoy! So here is the loooong over due chapter 5.**

It was three in the morning. I had a shift in two hours. I was still wide awake. Tossing and turning I desperately tried to find a comfortable position, but to no avail. It was a hot sticky night. The air conditioning in the left wing was on the fritz, resulting in uncomfortable sweaty nights. You couldn't open a window because of the mosquitoes and other creepy crawlies bringing in disease, there wasn't any fans installed because of the layer of dust that settled on top when they weren't in use could be harmful to patients- and so your only means of preventing yourself melting into a puddle on the floor was a nice cold glass of ice water. Or, if I wanted to stay cool I could attempt a conversation with Dan. He had become incredibly frosty, almost slamming my coffee down in front of me and glaring from across the cafeteria. It was still hilarious though. I didn't aid the situation in any way, shape or form. Whilst he scowled and slammed around the hatchet I grinned and attempted cheerful chatter, his frown appearing almost carved into his forehead. With the exception of Dan, my mood seemed to be infectious – even Ralph was caught whistling "Cockeyed Optimist" from South Pacific every once in a while. I peeled myself off of the bed and stuffed my feet into the stark white nurses shoes, inwardly shuddering at the feeling of the sweat cooling slightly on my back. For once, the cafeteria was almost empty. I could hear the squeaking of the rubber soles on the lino floor and smiled at Dan behind the counter. He glared back.  
"Hello, sunshine." I smiled, leaning against the counter. "Can I have a glass of water please?" Dan turned to the sink and began his usuall slamming around.  
"You know" I began, lifting an apple from the basket of fruit on the counter and took a bite, "You can't stay mad at me forever. We see each other almost every day!" He thumped the glass down in front of me so firmly that water splashed over the sides. As he turned to leave I grabbed his wrist. He slowly turned around.  
"C'mon, Rita, I'm busy." He grumbled, trying to pull his arm back. I gestured to the nearly empty room.  
"I know you don't enjoy staying angry at me. I don't like you being mad at me either, you're one of my best friends in here. Please make up? Please please please pleaaseee?" He rolled his eyes as I pulled my best puppy-dog face and tugged his arm up and down.  
"Daaaaaaaaannnn! Dan come on! I miss our midnight banter! Who else is gonna distract me from my avalanche of overdue paperwork?"  
"You're a manipulative little bitch, you know that?" Dan sighed in mock impatience, a grin once again gracing his features. I couldn't help but grin in return and I leaned over the counter and crushed him in a massive hug.  
"Rit... _Rit"! _you're strangling me!"  
"Good! Serves you right for ignoring me for a week!"  
XXXXX

I heard Gene coming before I could see him. Bleary eyed, I tried to force myself upright in bed before he could execute his running jump-but he was far too fast.  
"Jesus Christ, Gene, a 'Wakey wakey Rita!' would have sufficed..." I grumbled, trying to shove him off my bed. Laughing, he threw my uniform at me, shoes and all. Glaring, I threw a shoe back at him. He was far too cheerful for 4 in the morning.  
"Come on Rita, lighten up! You have a wonderful shift of cleaning wounds and mopping sick and beating off the line of soldiers waiting to take you out..."  
"The only soldiers I'm beating off are the ones that faint all over the place. Now shoo so I can get dressed. How long's this shift again?"  
"Five hours. Not too bad." Gene was wandering around my room picking up random objects and setting them back down again. He saw the photograph I'd set in a frame of him, Ralph and myself after graduating Med School and a smile spread across his face. We'd practically gone through medical school together, we were in all the same classes and we all spent out free time swotting in the library. We'd graduated in march and were almost immediately sent out into the middle of the gulf war. It really toughened us up.  
"I can't believe you brought this with you. You see us every day."  
"Yeah but whenever I'm sad or whatever it's there to cheer me up." Gene smiled and came and sat on the bed beside me, eyebrows knitted together slightly.  
"Are you ok out here, Rita? Is everything sorted with Dan?"  
I smiled back and crossed my legs.  
"It's all good now. There's nothing a good cup of tea can't fix."  
"What was the fight even about?"  
"Not a lot. Now shoo so I can get changed!"

XXX

I was on ward duty. Turns out Eugene _wasn't _bluffing: I really would be mopping up sick and cleaning dressings on wounds. It could've been worse though. A lot of the patients were awake and I really enjoyed talking to them, finding out funny stories or in some cases finding out troubles and concerns. One man was worried his wife would leave him when she found out he was missing a leg. Another was worried his comrades would think less of him whenever he woke up from a night terror kicking and screaming. A lot of them screamed in their sleep. One particular man, David Webster, was simply worried about returning to his company. Webster was one of the few Easy company men sent to me who didn't have an extra hole in his ass, and he was also one of the few remaining optimists. I don't mean that he was optimistic about the war, he knew what it was like, but he was optimistic about himself. If that makes any sense. He was also an amazing writer, and I'd return to the ward for a chat and he'd have written me another story or written a composition on the ward or on what the weather was like. Webster was definitely one of the perks of the job, a little ray of sunshine, so to speak.  
I wasn't designated to his floor today though. I was on the ward where any form of human company was snatched at. My job was to talk to them and listen to what they had to say; and if they didn't want to say anything my job was simply to keep them company if they wanted it. It was also to sneak them chocolate.  
"You understand them, Rita. They like talking to you because you _understand_ them."  
I was greeted with wan smiles as I walked in the room. I'd made a sort of understanding with the men; if they didn't want to talk then they pulled their curtain across when I came in. I was pleased to see that only three curtains had been pulled over. I was also more relieved than anything to see that Buck Compton hadn't signalled that he didn't want to talk. He was red-eyed and weary faced, but he was sitting upright in bed as if he was waiting for me. He'd been brought in after he'd watched two of his best friends being blown up. I nearly cried when he came in; he was a great leader who'd had too much thrown at him. And the worst part was that was the same story for every man up here.  
"Good morning, Buck. We have some mail for you today, d'ya want to read it now, or later?"  
"Later please, Rita." I helped him to his feet and we slowly walked towards the "examination room". Buck sat on the comfy chair I'd carted up from my room and I plonked myself down on the foam bed. He took a deep, shuddery breath as if he was going to say something, then closed his mouth again. Pulling a large bar of Cadbury's from my pocket I broke off a large chunk for him and a large chunk for me.  
"Is it ok if I... if we don't talk?" Buck asked, setting his chocolate on the table, and massaging his temples.  
"Of course." I stood up to go, but he grabbed my wrist as I left.  
"Could you stay? Just... just for the company?" I smiled and sat back on the examining bed with my legs crossed, Buck's grip still firm on my wrist. The silence was heavy, but it wasn't awkward. I knew why he'd wanted the company- sometimes just having someone to sit with could relieve you from the darker thoughts, even just for a while.  
"How long do we have?"  
"As long as you want, I'm here for as long as I'm wanted."  
Satisfied, Buck nodded and the corners of his mouth pulled up. He began to nibble at a corner of his chocolate, his gaze fixated on his slippered feet. I sat bolt upright, positive I'd just felt the floor shudder. Another shudder, this one more violent and a large, booming echo followed.  
"Oh shit..." I hissed. "Stay right here!" I ordered Buck, running out of the room. Flying down three flights of stairs I nearly ran headlong into Ralph-who was running up the three flights of stairs to find me.  
"Bombs?" I asked, panicked and breathless, leaning against the banister to catch my breath a little.  
"Theyre getting closer."  
"What do we do if we get-" I began, only to be cut short. The last thing I remember was being thrown across the room in a blinding explosion..._  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I've been writing like a madman to get this chapter done, so I hope you enjoy! And it's from Joes POV which I haven't done in a long while! So yes, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!**

**[Joe's POV]**

Refusing to think the worst, I filled my canteen from the water tap and strode to the remnants of the hospital. Well, what was left of it. After a night raid of heavy bombing there was a large crater in one of the hospital building. Luckily the rest of the buildings were left unharmed, including Rita's usual station, but there was still a lingering panic. I didn't feel like I had any _right_ to panic, we weren't exactly best buds- but there was definitely something about her that made me feel close to her. The desert sand hadn't completely settled from the raid and I could feel the air drying out my throat. Pushing open one of the doors to an unaffected area of the hospital, I slowly crept in. Haggard looking nurses were rushing around, wheeling men into the cafeteria and hauling salvaged medical supplies from other buildings. One smaller looking nurse was struggling to drag a slightly battered ECG machine along to the elevators. I ran over and helped her lift it, ignoring her protests that she could manage on her own. Her accent was heavily French and one of her eyes was swollen shut.  
"Thank you. Eet was much heavier zan eet looked." She smiled wearily and ran a hand through her tangled hair and she suddenly looked at me in confusion.  
"What are you doing 'ere? Should you not be out with your companee?"  
"Listen, do you know a nurse here? Her name's Rita, Rita Howell? I'm one of her friends and wanted to see if she's ok." I felt my heart sink as her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. I couldn't help but notice that her fingers were stained with blood.  
"Is she alright? What's happened?!" The little nurse's hand didn't leave her mouth and she shook her head, tears filling her eyes. My chest tightened and I grabbed her hand. "_Is she ok?"  
_That seemed to snap her back into reality and she pulled her hand back.  
"Stay 'ere. I'll... I'll go fetch Eugene..."  
I was only left waiting by the elevator for around fifteen minutes, but it felt like fifteen hours. My hands were clenched into fists, my nails almost cutting into the palms of my hands and each minute that passed made me more and more frustrated. What was keeping them?! Had Rita... Was she really... I wouldn't let myself think it. She _couldn't _be. I began to stalk backwards and forwards. Eventually the little French nurse came scurrying back with a terse looking male. His eyes darkened as he saw me and his thick brows knitted together.  
"Mr Liebgott?" he drawled in a thick Cajun accent. His expression wasn't putting my mind at rest.  
"Yeah, that's me. Is she ok? Where is she?"  
"She's ok. Well, she's alive. I'm going to have to ask you to come back tomorrow she's not really in any state for vi-"  
"Where. Is. She." The doctor, who I assumed had to be Eugene, pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, gesturing for me to follow him. After wandering through a maze of corridors, we arrived at one of the millions of wards and I keeked into the little window. I spotted her sitting bolt upright beside the window in one of the plastic chairs beside a bed, a slightly bemused smile creeping along her face as she scribbled on a scrap of paper with a pencil. She looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, her hair knotted and singed, a large bandage clumsily taped to her forehead and she was clothed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that I guess belonged to the lost property closet. I just about ran into the room towards her, interrupting whatever conversation she was having with the other nurse and engulfing her in a tight hug. When she didn't hug me back I pulled away, confusion evident in both of our expressions.  
"Rita?" I asked, crouching down beside her and taking her hand, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.  
She cocked her head and stared blankly back at me.  
"Rita?" Rita furrowed her brow and looked over my shoulder at Eugene, confusion still painfully written across her face. She looked down at my hands, still holding hers.  
"Do I know you?"

X  
" Rita, I have a visitor for you!" Eugene said, smiling at her as if she were a small child. "He came to see you especially!" Her face lit up in a beatific smile and she grabbed the scrap of paper and the pen from the table, drawing a stick figure and writing a shaky "Man" underneath it. She handed it to Eugene and pointed to me, then the paper.  
"That's right Rita, 'Man'!" I looked at the other nurse and he shook his head "Do you know any other Men?" Rita nodded and her grin grew wider, pointing at Eugene and the other nurse.  
"Ralph and 'Gene are man too."

I couldn't help myself. I grabbed Ralph and dragged him out of the examination room, ignoring Rita's childlike wave goodbye.  
"What happened?" I hissed, pushing him out of the room. "What the _fuck _happened?!" I knew it wasn't his fault, but nobody in this goddamn place was telling me anything. The little French nurse wouldn't tell me, Eugene wouldn't tell me, and if this son of a bitch didn't tell me then shit was going to go down.  
"Ok... Ok- let _go! _" He replied, snatching his arm out of my grip. "She was in the Psychiatric ward when the bomb raid started and the building almost took a direct hit. The impact sent her flying down a flight of stairs and headfirst into a wall. She doesn't remember why she's here, where she's from... she remembers nothing... nothing. Severe Amnesia; we're lucky she remembers how to use a knife and fork."  
I felt as if someone had punched me in the guts, I really did.  
"Will she get ever get her memory back?" I heard my voice crack and bit on my tongue. I could feel my bottom lip wobble a little and tears began to prick at my eyes. Looking down at the floor, I shuffled my feet a little and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself.  
"Will she ever... Will she get it back?" Ralph slowly raised his shoulders in a defeated shrug.  
"We don't know. There's always the possibility she'll have a trigger that'll bring her memory back but the chances of that happening are fairly slim. She hit her head pretty hard." I nodded and turned briskly on my heel to leave, only to be stopped in my tracks by a hand on my shoulder.  
"Are you the soldier who demanded she stitch up your neck wound?"  
"Yeah."  
"Then you're also the soldier that was kissing her when Dan walked in?" I turned to look at him, cocking my head to one side.  
"How the hell did you-"  
"Never mind that for now. Look, I don't want to seem like I'm interfering or anything but if she'd want anyone to support her through this it'd be you, me and Eugene. She clearly really liked you, and I'm guessing you feel the same about her, considering you went AWOL to see if she was ok. If she ever does get her memory back, I'm almost a hundred percent sure she'd love to know you were there for her during this whole time. I don't know, maybe... maybe you could do something that would be the trigger." Ralph rushed. "So stay a bit longer. Talk to her. We'll leave you in peace. Please."  
XXX

There were cards littered all over her bedside table along with little bars of chocolate and things people had given her that she used to like. There was a wooden toy soldier, a little tin love heart, a small tube of blue paint and a framed photograph of Rita, Ralph and Eugene. I felt the corners of my mouth pull up a little and I picked up the photograph. She looked so young and carefree; they were all so happy.  
Rita was still sitting by the window doodling on a scrap of paper and I was sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading through all the cards.  
"What's that?" She asked, running a finger along the scar on my neck. Her forehead was creased with concern. "Did someone hurt you?"  
"Yeah, I was trying to help my friend and got hit by a bit of metal." Her eyes narrowed and her expression became slightly upset.  
"Why would someone want to hurt you? Did you hurt them? Is it ok?"  
"It's fine, don't worry about it." I replied with what I hoped was a reassuring smile, taking her hand and stroking the back of it with my thumb. "What happened to your poor head?" She felt the bandage on her forehead with her free hand and shrugged her shoulders.  
"I don't know. Nobody'll tell me either." She looked down at our hands and smiled a little.  
"Ralph told me that you know me. But I don't know you. _Should_ I recognise you?" I shook my head and her brow furrowed. "I feel like I should know you. What's your name?"  
"Joe. Joe Liebgott." I replied, sitting back a little into the headboard of the bed.

"You're the second Joe I've met today" She smiled, tugging at the hem of her jumper, picking at a fraying thread. "Everybody who has come to see me is a complete stranger and yet they talk as if we've known each other our entire lives and then they give it 'Oh but you _must_ remember me!' It makes me feel bad that I don't know them. I like the friends I've made though. They all give me lots of chocolate and things but I end up sharing them out and not eating any. I don't mind. It's nice to see them happy. But then they start talking to Eugene and Ralph and they're not happy anymore. They look sad. And angry. Why do they look angry, Joe? Did I do something wrong?"

She looked on the verge of tears, no longer fiddling with the hem of her sweater as much as crumpling the fabric, twisting it between her fingers. She wouldn't look at me, her lip wobbling as she stared down into her lap. I leaned over and chucked her under the chin with my index finger, tilting her face up to look at me. Her smile was watery and a tear slipped out from a corner of her eye. I caught it with my thumb.  
"You didn't do anything wrong, Rita, they just don't understand." Nodding slowly, she came over and sat beside me on the bed, mimicking my position. Blinking away the moistness in her eyes, she looked up at me, cocking her head.  
"Hey, Joe?" She asked, taking my hand again.  
"Yeah?"  
"Are we friends now?"  
"Yeah."  
She grinned and leaned over me, lifting the scrap of paper and pencil from her chair, setting it in front of me.  
"Do you want to play noughts and crosses?"


	7. Chapter 7

**[Joe's POV]**

I sat back in my chair and glared over at Rita's bed, my jaw clenching. Although _she_ didn't remember any past feud with Dan- or any past relations with me- he damn well did and the little shit was using it to his advantage. They were both sitting on the hospital bed and Dan was supposedly reading her palm. She was enthralled, her pale face glowing and her mouth hanging open- she looked like a kid at Christmas. The tight braid that a tall nurse had styled that morning was becoming loose and little curls were free- falling across her face in her excitement.  
"But how do you _know?"_ she kept asking, pulling her hand out of his and peering at the lines, her eyes squinting so much they were almost closed.  
"Magic. It runs in the family." He replied, looking back over at me with a stupid smug expression on his stupid smug face. I glared at him at least twice as hard and he recoiled a little, turning back to Rita. There we were, lounging around playing paper games and generally just carrying on when Dan had decided to visit with chocolate cake and bullshit talents. I'd always been told that if I didn't have anything nice to say then I wasn't to say anything at all- and that's just what I did. For the past hour I'd sat scowling over at the bed. There was a little trick up my sleeve to pull, however.  
"Hey Dan, you've missed out one part of her future." I said, talking over whatever he was going to say. Both he and Rita turned back around, her excited and him looking at me as if I was a dog turd.  
"Oh yeah?" He replied, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge me. Winking at Rita, I pulled two aeroplane tickets from my trouser pockets and fanned myself with them. Her eyes lit up and she sat upright in bed.  
"What are those?" she asked, a grin spreading all over her face. It was contagious; I couldn't stop myself from smiling if my life had depended on it.  
"Aeroplane tickets. We're goin' to the States, Baby, we're goin' home!"  
I'd told her about America before. Quite a few times. We'd had her parents on Skype the previous night and it'd taken her mother at least an hour to realise something was different about Rita. But jeez, talk about a drama queen. The previous Dragon Lady act dissipated and was replaced with a wailing puddle of high pitched "what did we do to deserve this" and trumpety sounding nose-blows. Her father was much more under control: he held back his crying and asked all the questions that I'd expected the Dragon Lady to ask. And although the call had upset Rita more than anything, it'd let her come to terms slightly that there were other people outside the hospital and that different countries and towns existed. Eugene had recommended it.  
"Where'd you get those?" Dan demanded, snatching them from my grasp and scrutinising them. My smile once again melted into a smirk.  
"There was a lottery in each company to send one man home for a few weeks. I won from E company."  
"Then how come she gets a ticket?!"  
"I spent some of my pay on it." Pulling the tickets back from Dan I ambled over and sat down next to Rita on the bed. She looked at me with a slightly muddled expression.  
"Rit?" I asked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "You ok?" She nodded, still looking confused.  
"When will we be going?" She was beginning to look a little bit distressed, once again she began tugging at the hem of her top and looking down into her lap; a habit she didn't have until after the explosion.  
"We'll be leaving the hospital tomorrow morning and getting on the plane-that's like a car for the sky- around 3 o'clock. I'm already packed: we'll just need to get your stuff together then say goodbye to everyone. I've rented a little house near where your mom and dad lives so we can visit them whenever. There's also WiFi so you can Skype with 'Gene and Ralph for as long as you want." Throughout my explanation she nodded but didn't stop fidgeting with her hem.  
"Hey," I murmured, taking her hands. "Don't worry about it. You'll have a great time. The house has a pool and everything. It's only two weeks." She smiled a little and squeezed my hand before letting it go. Dan cleared his throat loudly and I retreated back into my chair in the corner. They went back to chattering away and picking bits off of the slice of cake. I relaxed back into my chair and forced my face back into it's typical "Liebgott-glare" and watched Rita and Dan bicker.

After another twenty minutes or so, Rita began to rub her eyes and yawn so Renee, the little French nurse, ushered Dan out and attempted to get rid of me, but after around five minutes she gave up trying. She was learning. I sat and watched her talk to Rita for a while as she hauled a small suitcase from under her bed and began to pack her things. She didn't have much: The suitcase wasn't particularly large, but it was still only a quarter full with a pair of jeans, a few tops, a jumper, some underwear and a pair of shoes. That was it. Rita kept trying to get out of bed to help, only to be forced back into bed with a thunderous expression. Renee finished packing and gestured for me to step outside. I lazily got to my feet and ambled out after her, closing the door behind me. Taking a deep breath, she began.  
"Joseph... why _her?_" I groaned, and leaned against the doorframe. I was getting fed up with people asking me why I spent most of that months pay on a ticket for some nurse and why I cared as much. Like I couldn't be nice to someone who needed it...  
"She's getting fed up being stuck in the hospital with nobody telling her anything." I said. "She wants to know why she can't remember anything and why she has to stay in her room and mostly why all her friends refuse to tell her what she was like before. I thought maybe if we took a vacation, sort of, it could jog her memory. Especially since it's close to her home town." She seemed to mull over my answer for a while, formulating a response. She opened her mouth as if she were about to answer and sighed, discarding whatever response she was initially going with.  
"You'll need extra bandages and things. I shall send Eugene and Ralph up with them ."  
I nodded and turned back into the private room, allowing the door to slam shut behind me. Rita had dozed off, her head lolling onto her shoulder a little and her hair had almost completely fallen out of her braid. I grinned at the sight and tiptoed back to my chair. She had a notebook in her lap and I leaned forward, gently pinching it from her before I sat down. It was really old, the black cover diluted down to grey and the corners and spine was tattered and frayed. Flicking through it I saw hundreds of sketches of friends she'd made here a couple of patients that had come in, even some disturbingly realistic- obviously memorised- scenes of operations that didn't look like they were going too great. Then, about halfway through the book there was a half finished drawing of Ralph swinging on his chair and dozing off- and for a few pages, there was nothing but dirty fingerprints. I kept flicking to see whether or not she'd doodled or something anywhere else and clenched my fist as I got nearer to the end. Dotted lines had been pencilled in and someone, I'd assume Ralph or Eugene, had boldly printed each letter of the alphabet. Underneath, in wobbly pencil, Rita had shakily copied out each letter, as if she were a pre-schooler again. I clenched my jaw and snapped the book shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. Nobody had told me that her memory loss had been so bad that she couldn't read or write anymore, and to be honest, it made me unbelievably angry. It was bad enough that they were keeping her in the dark; we both had the right to know what was going on. The door quietly creaked open and Webster slowly walked in, an overflowing wooden box in hand. He looked surprised to see me there and began to back out. I held up Rita's sketchbook and waved it from side to side a little and my expression must've been enough.  
"Joe-" he began, setting the box down by the door, but I cut him off. I was gonna get answers for this.  
"Why didn't anyone fuckin' tell me?"  
"She didn't want anyone told." I was taken aback, and instantly lowered my guns. "None of the doctors know. Or if they do they're pretending they don't. Calm down." I scowled and got to my feet, squaring up to him a little.  
"Don't tell me to calm down goddamnit. Where the fuck have you been, you got shot four months ago!" He rolled his eyes, an infuriating habit. "Listen, college boy, I'm fuckin' fed up with people telling me Jack Shit about what's happening with Rita. She's leaving the country in less than twelve fuckin' hours and shit like this I need to know!" Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Web pulled the book from my hands and sat it back down on the bed.  
"_Technically_ I'm not a college boy anymore. If I'd finished maybe but I-" I held my hand up to shut him up.  
"Wait a minute, _finish_ school? You mean all this time you've been talking about "Harvard this" and "Harvard that" and you ain't even finished?" I laughed, slightly incredulously. I couldn't believe it.  
His head fell into his hands and he growled a little.  
"For one thing, I haven't told you anything. But yes, yes, I haven't finished, so the fuck what?"  
Producing a packet of cigarettes, Webster flicked one out and lit it, offering another to me. I took the packet and restrained a cynical smirk at the upside down "lucky" cigarette at the very end, holding my hand out for the lighter. Lucky my ass.  
"Aren't there rules against smoking in a hospital?" I said, cocking an eyebrow. Web smirked back at me and shrugged his shoulders, taking a deep drag as he slouched against the wall.  
"So the fuck what."  
"Can she still draw?" I asked, nodding towards the notebook. "I mean, what's in there is pretty amazing."  
"She can draw fine: she started that drawing of Ralph the other day. I don't know how she can still draw but cant read or write... but she doesn't let anyone help her. She has me write letters and words and waits 'till I've gone back to work before she starts writin'. It embarrasses her." I opened my mouth to respond but I was silenced with Webster's hand.  
"Do us a favour and don't mention it to her." Indignantly- and slightly petulantly- I opened my mouth to protest but was once again silenced.  
"Seriously." I scowled and took another puff of my cigarette, snatching the wooden box up from the floor and tossing items into her case carelessly. Bandages for her forehead. Three different loads of painkillers. Cotton pads. Random toiletries. Hairbrush. Check check check and check. I stopped as a a thought suddenly came into mind and stood upright.  
"How come _you_ get to help her?" He raised an eyebrow and stubbed out his cigarette out on his boot, flicking the bud into the plastic wastepaper basket.  
"I dunno. She used to visit me in my ward quite a lot for a chat or just to read a book in peace or whatever. I heard she'd lost... I heard what had happened and thought it should be my turn to visit her. I brought the book she'd hidden in my bedside cabinet and she couldn't even read the title so I asked if she wanted me to help her read it and she said-"  
"So you're teaching her like a fuckin' pre-schooler?!" Webster exhaled aggregately and glared at me.  
"I'm not even going to grace that with a response you asshole."  
"Who're you calling asshole, you dumb fuck?!" We had both gotten to our feet and were squaring up to each other.  
"Listen, shortass..."  
"Will you two get a room?!" came a hoarse voice from the bed. We whipped our heads around to see her sitting half upright in bed, leaning on her arm. Her hair was tangled in front of her face and her face was creased with pillow marks.  
"Hello, David." She smiled, waving sleepily at him. The frustrated crease-marks in between Webster's eyebrows instantly smoothing out. He wandered over the bed and leaned over to engulf her into a hug. He began to ask her about whatever crappy book she was re-learning to read and I looked over in slight surprise as she burned a beetroot red and mumbled something about not knowing how to read a lot of the words.  
"Did you underline them in pencil?" he asked, taking the book from her bedside cabinet and flicking through it, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. He whispered something to Web and he turned to look at me, 'subtly' indicating that I should leave. I sat down in the chair beside the bed and crossed my arms, setting my face into the epitome of insolence. Webster scowled and turned back to Rita.  
"Can we not do this now?" she asked, leaning in close to Web so that I wouldn't hear. I rolled my eyes and began picking the dirt from underneath my fingernails, pretending to be deaf. All I wanted was some peace and quiet to have one chat with her, but apparently that wasn't gonna happen till we got on the plane in eleven hours time. Apart from his four month absence I didn't _really _have a reason for him to piss me off as much as he did, but his simply being there just annoyed me. And not your regular annoyance; the kind where you want to frogmarch the person out of the door. Or the window. Their snickering and carrying on was drilling straight into my brain and I was far too tired to put up with it.  
"We're leaving in nine hours." I pointed out, hoping Webster would get the hint. I was wrong. The daft bastard just looked over his shoulder at the clock and continued talking. Christ knows how many hints I dropped for the next hour- it got to the stage where it wasn't even hints anymore, I was literally ordering him to shift his fucking ass before I stuck the fork from the leftover cake down his goddamn throat. I was getting Rita's attention though. I could see her try and suppress laughter as the threats became more and more ridiculous. Pleased that I was distracting her attention away from Web, I made them less threatening and more creative just to try and make her laugh. And to frustrate him. Mostly to make her laugh, though. Finally, around midnight, Ralph and Eugene ambled in, looking exhausted, and shooed Webster out. They'd just clocked out of a twelve hour shift but had come to say goodbye to Rita before they crashed. Eugene was so tired he practically said his goodnight in his strangely soothing archaic French, just managing to lean across the bed and give her a hug without collapsing. Ralph simply hugged her and ruffled her hair, telling her to enjoy herself and he'd see her on Skype soon enough. I nodded a goodbye to the pair, nodding to Ralphs "Don't be a shithead." and laughed a little as they almost fell through the door. Rita was sitting upright underneath the thin hospital covers and had a little shy smile on her face. She watched me pull out the little camper bed and whilst I kicked off my boots and stripped to my underwear she began to throw pillows and sheets down onto the slim mattress, shooting me a filthy look when I protested. Before I climbed into bed, she tugged on my hand and shyly held out her arms, looking straight at the floor. I grinned and pulled her into a bearhug, catching her a little as she stumbled.  
"G'night Joe." She mumbled into my chest, giving me a quick squeeze before letting go. She jumped into bed with a scarlet face and just about pulled the covers over her head. I snickered and said my goodnights as i clambered awkwardly into the tiny camp bed and set the alarm on the small clock beside me. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

**AN: Hello! So this is one of my longer chapters and I swear it had a plot but that kind of...got lost somewhere. So instead we have jealous Joe and oblivious Rita. I do have something in mind and that'll hopefully make an appearance fairly soon but yes! (P.s can you tell I have next to no knowledge of the Gulf War considering this has almost entirely been set in a hospital and then America? Hopefully my bluffing has been successful haha! So enjoy, and I'll see you in chapter 8! **


	8. Chapter 8

**[Joe's POV]**

"C'mon Rita, sit at peace- God damnit, you're bouncing the entire cab around! For the love of God, sit _down! _Oh Jesus fuckin' Christ..."  
"Joe, I don't think you quite understand: You've just told me that we were sitting inside a cloud! _INSIDE A CLOUD_! How is that not cool to you?!"  
"Get away from the fuckin- Rita! I'm never taking you in a fuckin' taxi _anywhere _again- SIT THE HELL DOWN OR SO HELP ME..."  
"I can't help it, I'm too excited! Can I at least _draw_ being inside the cloud?"  
Glaring, I defensively hugged my backpack containing her sketchpad and pencils closer to my chest, ignoring her pouting. She'd been pressed up against the glass of the taxi window from most of the journey from the airport to her parent's farm, rapidly sketching the miles and miles of yellow fields and animals and all that happy-crappy stuff with such vigour that I felt that I should confiscate her drawing materials before she hurt someone. When I say vigorous, I mean vigorous. That pencil nearly took my eye out at least a million times. She'd slept for most of the plane journey, her head lolling either onto the window or onto my shoulder whilst I was stuck listening to some little brat shrieking for the entire 8 hour flight.  
I couldn't help but laugh as she grumbled some recently learned insults (hey: monkey see, monkey do) and turned back to staring, not quite so reverently out of the window. The cab was freezing and the stale fug of cigarette smoke was really potent. We were headed to Rita's parent's house for dinner and to pick up some more clothes for her. Then we'd be heading to a large farmhouse around five miles away for the next couple of weeks and my only concern was who would be cooking. I knew for a fact Rita hadn't cooked her own food in over a year and a half and my expertise stretched to a very very basic lasagne. It looked like me and the food channels were going to be best buddies for a while. Slowly the endless fields melted into small, quaint villages with about four shops in each. Give me New York any day. I couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as Rita's jaw dropped open at all the little cottages and neat gardens, eyes flickering to try and see as much as possible.  
"This is so different from home..." she whispered, a palm against the glass. I sighed and blew a stray chunk of hair out of my face. I didn't have the heart to tell her that this _was_ her home. Rita had quit staring out of the window and was instead peering at my backpack from the corner of her eye.  
"Not a chance."  
"Oh, come on!" she cried in response, throwing her head back against the headrest and crossing her arms, a scowl firmly in place.  
"You're behaving like a child."  
"Well _you're_ behaving like a dick."  
Snickering, I sat back into my chair and closed my eyes. Well, I didn't close them exactly, they were too heavy to hold open. We were an hour away from our destination, the plane ride had exhausted me to no end and the thirteen coffees during and after probably didn't help. Just as I began to nod off I felt Rita lean over and try to pry the bag away. I propped it up against the window and leaned on it, as if it were a pillow. It wasn't necessarily a comfortable pillow, but at that moment in time it was better than bouncing my skull off of the glass every time we swung around a corner.  
"Wake me up when we get there, willya?"  
"If you're lucky." She retorted, huffing and crossing her arms. Snickering, I tugged up the collar of my jacket at let my eyes drift shut.  
XXX

I was abruptly woken by the taxi slamming on its breaks. So was Rita, according the definite _thud_ of a head bouncing against the window and the resulting cry of pain. Sheepishly, she looked over at me, massaging the red lump on her forehead.  
"Some wake up call..."  
"We're here." The cab driver hollered unnecessarily through the grate, lighting himself another smoke. "That'll be forty two dollars and sixteen cents." Quickly rubbing the sleep from my eyes I dug into my pockets for some money and tossed the cab driver a few crumpled twenties, falling out of the cab like I was in some action movie. Rita was already hauling about four suitcases from the boot and I ambled over to help get the last few. The cab tore away, literally leaving us in a cloud of dust surrounded by heavy suitcases in front of a disturbingly immaculate house. The grass was perfectly level, there were no unruly weeds springing out from cracks in the paving stones, even the tulips were in perfect formation. Rita stood staring at the house, tugging at the hem of her jumper and chewing her lip. I took her hand and she turned and smiled a little, but she still looked a little unsure of herself.  
"Just remember that they're your parents. You'll be fine." I murmured, squeezing her hand with one of mine and picking up a few suitcases with the other.  
"That's the problem, I _don't_ remember." Before we even got within a ten metre radius of the gate there was a loud, chicken like screech from the porch.  
"Rita, you're a half hour late, that's just not on young lady. How many times have I told you about wearing those awful jeans, they do absolutely _nothing_ for you! I'll take you shopping tomorrow for some nice new dresses, that'll cheer you right up. Is this the Joseph I've been hearing about? Well, he's certainly... something. I wouldn't have pinned him as your _type _per se, but...he'll do. Now grab your things and get inside, chop chop." We both sort of stood there, not quite sure how to react to this, sort of insulting, tirade. I looked over at Rita to see that I wasn't the only one who was slightly overwhelmed by this terrifying woman.  
"Well don't just stand there!" she commanded, clapping her hands together and ushering us into her house . "Get a move on, the Yorkshire's will be getting soggy."

XXX  
It was the best damn meal I'd eaten in a long time. It was clear that a lot of time and effort had gone into making it perfect and the thought of having to go home to take-outs and oven pizza saddened me a little. I wondered if I could bribe Rita's grandfather, Kurt, into stealing portions of food and leaving them somewhere I could collect...  
Her mother was not a force to be reckoned with. No matter how much Kurt assured me that I had met her approval I still doubted it. They were polar opposites of each other; one quiet, calm and generally accepting of whatever was going on around him and the other was a complete and utter hurricane of control freak, OCD and 'I don't like what's happening". I had no idea what her father was like as he was too busy at his law firm to make an appearance. Rita's personality suddenly made a whole lot of sense to me. I was currently standing in Rita's old bedroom holding a spare suitcase, trying to catch each random article of clothing her mother threw over her shoulder at me from the chest of drawers. The room was small and pink- a choice I can only assume was Mrs Howell's- and there were piles of books, notepads, dvds and clothes cluttered across every surface. Rita was with Kurt, going for a drive in his old pick-up truck to all of the places that she used to go as a child in the hopes of triggering a memory. I wasn't holding out much hope.  
"She doesn't have a single decent skirt in here! It's all jeans and leggings and shorts and sweatpants... what she needs is a nice dress. That'll perk her right up! And her swimming costumes are so_ old, _but I suppose they'll do. Is there anything else you'll be needing before you go, Joseph?"  
I rummaged through the suitcase and shook my head.  
"No, I think that's everything. My mom stocked the house with shampoo and stuff for her so I think we're good to go." She smiled brightly at me, looking alarmingly like Rita.  
"I was wondering whether or not you could help me with cooking food..." I began , struggling with my armful of suitcase, " 'cause I don't trust Rita near a cooker and I'm not exactly Paula Deen myself." Mrs Howell sniggered and motioned for me sit beside her on the bed. Dumping the, considerably heavier, suitcase onto the floor and quickly whipping the zip around I carefully perched myself onto the edge of the bed.  
"Frozen foods, my dear boy, frozen foods. Roast potatoes, peas and carrots, pizza, fish, Yorkshire puddings: you can find almost anything in the freezer section of Wal-Mart." She looked over at the door and leaned a little closer. "Don is still convinced I cook everything from scratch the poor man..." I felt my eyes widen a little and I swallowed back the laughter. Mrs Howell caught my eye and we were both gone, trying to laugh as quietly as possible. We failed. Tears were streaming down our faces and I was concerned that Mrs Howell was going to choke on her own tongue from laughing so hard.  
"You tell either of them and it'll be your head on the chopping block..." she threatened, dabbing at her eyes with a hankie.  
"Dont you mean in the freezer?"  
And we were off again. I think the last time I'd laughed as hard as this was when Nixon had been celebrating something back in the states before we were deployed and was completely hammered. He'd come running into the rec room and slammed the door shut after him, shouted something about leaving someone outside and tried to run back out again, running face first into the door. Those photo's were still floating around the internet and would re-surface every so often, much to Nix's displeasure. Finally regaining our composture, Mrs Howell smiled at Rita's suitcase sadly.  
"I was worried sick when she told us she was going to Iraq. That girl was always different... not in a bad way, but different. She was always holed up in her room with a book or she'd disappear at the crack of dawn to paint or draw and she never brought friends or boys back home. I don't think she really had any. " The surprise I felt at that last statement must've been written all over my face, as Mrs Howell quirked an eyebrow at me.  
"She didn't seem to mind having her own company. We tried to get her to go to classes outside of school but again, she didn't enjoy it. The only person Rita'd talk to was her Granddad."

"Everybody loves her at the hospital, Mrs H, I wouldn't worry about that. Barely managed a two minute conversation without someone interrupting to talk to her. She's the only nurse that the patients would talk to, that's why they put her on a different ward."  
"Don't call me Mrs Howell, Joseph, Linda is fine." I smirked and shook my head in disbelief.  
"The amount of times I've heard Rita saying the same thing... You're more alike than she wants to believe."

There was a crunch of a car pulling into the gravel driveway and, not two seconds after, the slam of the front door being thrown open and the sound of Rita's rapid gibbering growing louder and louder.  
"JOE? MOM, WHERE ARE YOU?" I looked over at Mrs H. Both of our mouths were open.  
"Did she just call you-"  
"Did she just call me _mom_?"

We scrambled out of the bedroom to see a very proud looking Kurt and a very excited looking Rita. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and excitedly wringing her hands. Her eyes were a little wild looking, darting between parents. Laughing, she launched herself at her mother and crushed her into a massive bear hug. Whether or not they were laughing or crying was becoming more and more unclear. Kurt caught my eye and motioned for me to follow him out of the hall and into the living room. I couldn't force the grin off of my face.  
"So what triggered her memory of us?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the couch and bouncing my knees up and down. I wasn't expecting anything to come out of the drive, especially since they'd only been gone for an hour, and I already couldn't wait to call back to Eugene and Ralph to tell them the good news. But Kurt shook his head and took a deep breath. Rita might've had he mother's attitude, but she definatley took after her father in the looks department. They had the same hair and eyes and ,although hers was a little squint from a previous injury, they had the same nose.

"I'm so sorry Joseph. She doesn't remember anything about the war..." It was like someone had roundhouse kicked me in the stomach.  
"Anything?" I said, my voice wavering a little.  
"Anything. She still doesn't recall how you two became acquainted, she doesn't know why she is friends with the other two surgeons... she just doesn't know."

I got to my feet shakily, face set and jaw clenched. Excusing myself I stalked out of the suddenly suffocatingly small room. I was engulfed with an irrational, almost childish anger. Why did she remember _them_ and not me? What was I gonna have to do to get her to remember me? There was the typical warning *thump thump thump* of a wild Rita running towards you and I just had enough time to force a smile on my face before I was knocked off balance by a trademark rugby-tackle hug.  
"Isnt this great?!" she asked into my neck. she was still crying, the tears dampening the collar of my shirt. I hugged her a little tighter and ran my hand up and down her back, trying to push the hurt to the back of my mind, for now at least.  
"Yeah. It's unbelievable..."

**AN: Fun fact for you all: the story about Nixon running into a door is a based upon a true story only a) I was sober and b) I knocked myself unconscious. I am an incredibly clumsy human being but hey it's always a conversation starter! I'm sorry that it has been a while but exams are coming up and I don't have too much free time to spew out something decent, but I'll try and update as much as possible. Once May is out of the way I should be updating a lot more! Thank you for reading and please leave a review :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**[JOE'S POV]**

I ambled out to the shiny new hire car after a massively prolonged goodbye to Rita's family and flung myself into the drivers seat, resting my head against the steering wheel and methodically smashing my face off of its surface, groaning in relief as I attempted to recover from that somewhat traumatising experience of meeting Rita's mother. She'd spent at least two hours repeatedly slapping her beloved first born upside the head for worrying her sick and eventually resorting to sobbing uncontrollably with her face buried into Rita's shoulder. She was fine once she'd recovered though, instantly berating Rita's choice of dungarees and sneakers over "A lovely dress with a sweetheart neckline, it's much more flattering." Then going on to mention the handsome young man down the road who was forever _pestering_ her about Rita and when she'd be home leaving me and Rita's grandfathr  
"You too, huh?" came a tired voice from one of the back seats. I jumped and turned abruptly to face the back. Rita was sat in almost the exact same position I was previously, surrounded by at least thirty shopping bags and a large red mark colouring her forehead from where she was presumably also repeatedly smashing her face off of the headrest in front of her. I quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged her shoulders.  
"Aren't you used to it?"  
"I'd forgotten how emotional she gets... it was making me antsy; you'd have thought I'd just been brought back from the dead or something." Rita scowled slightly at the sea of bags around her and clambered over into the front seat.  
"You think you've got everything?" I asked, turning the key in the ignition. After a slightly sour nod we backed out of the driveway and were on our way.  
We'd stopped off at a Wal-Mart on the way home and picked up enough groceries to last us till the end of the world (and lots of frozen foods, just as Mrs Howell recommended) and Rita had bought herself a small digital camera.  
"Just in-case I forget again" She'd explained once we'd gotten back to the car, snapping a photograph of me and stashing the camera in the glove compartment, ignoring my protests with a smirk and an eye-roll.  
"I knew we shouldn't have let you watch Memento on the flight here..."

The radio was up almost full blast for the rest of the journey, Rita singing loudly along to everything and pestering me 'till I joined in. Rita was surprisingly good at singing, belting out Diamonds are Forever and Delilah with impressive talent. After an hour of persuasion and several off-key renditions of Kate Bush, Aha and Journey- complete with over dramatic hand gestures- I had to pull the car into the side of the road, we were laughing so hard. Tears were blurring my vision so much that I couldn't see properly and Rita was doubled over in her seat, clutching her sides. We'd just managed to calm ourselves down, but as soon as we caught each other's eye, we were off again.  
"Oh my fucking god I can't... I can't even _breathe..."_ I stuttered in between bouts of giggles and rested my head back against the headrest, trying to catch some air. Rita had her face in her hands so that she couldn't see me, but from the shuddering of her back I could tell that we were in the same boat.  
"I cant believe you know the words to Wuthering Heights... " She laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I wished I'd filmed that so that I could show it to David and Eugene, they'll _never _believe that!"  
"Like hell you'd show it to David, that asshole would never let me forget it."  
"Exactly." She retorted, pulling down the sun shade and checking her hair in the mirror. "you've taught me far too well, Joe."  
"And I regret every second of it." I grumbled mock-angrily as I pulled back out into the road. There was a sudden flash from the corner of my eye and I whipped my head to see Rita smirking at me from behind the camera.  
"One day you'll wake up and that fuckin' camera will be at the bottom of the pool, I swear to god."  
"You're all talk, Joseph Liebgott: it's hard to take a man who can flawlessly sing a Kate Bush song seriously." Catching sight of my expression she burst out laughing again, pressing down on the shutter of the camera once more before tossing it into the back. "And you thought it would just be _David_ who wouldn't let you live it down…" XXX

The bags were unpacked, the beds were made, the bathroom was stocked, the Wifi was set up, it was nine pm and there I was, lying on the sofa flicking mindlessly through channels on the tv. Re-run. Re-run. Wow, hadn't seen _that_ episode in a while. Next. Crap. Crap. Re-run. You'd think they'd have made shows better since two years ago but apparently not. Sighing I turned off the television and chucked the remote onto the table, pressing the palms of my hands over my eyes and groaning loudly. There was nothing worse than the suffocating boredom that I found myself feeling a whole lot lately; no matter what I was doing there was always a heavy disinterest nagging at the back of my mind and nothing could stop it. The previous background noise of Rita clattering around in the kitchen was accompanied by the occasional curse and the much more frequent sound of a mechanical whirring. The cursing was nothing unusual: I'd heard her call the kettle a bastard twice already, and we'd only been here a day. Now, it was eerily quiet. Getting to my feet, I stretched out my stiff muscles and ambled through to the kitchen to see what she was up to-praying that the source of her cursing wasn't from her setting the kitchen on fire or accidentally slicing off one of her fingers. It would give me something to do, if not prevent her losing too much blood.  
Gently pushing the kitchen door open I was more than surprised at what I saw. Not only was the kitchen spotless, but there was two glasses full of a thick red something and Rita was sitting on the kitchen table, reading a book and she was all in one piece.  
"What're you doing?" I asked, squinting my eyes a little from the bright lights. Gesturing to the glasses she smiled, took a slurp from one and offered the other to me.  
"Smoothies. Want one?" I ambled over to the table and sat up beside her, accepting the smoothie. I took a huge gulp and was pleasantly surprised. It was actually pretty good. She raised an eyebrow expectantly at me when my expression didn't change.  
"Honestly, you need to stop being surprised when I do stuff successfully. Save that for when I manage a flight of stairs." She teased, bumping my shoulder with hers then going back to her book.

"Rita."

Silence

"Ritaa."

I groaned and kicked my legs back and forth, like a kid.

"Rita I'm _bored!_"  
"Mmhm…"

Snarling a little, I grabbed her book from her hands and set it down beside us with a slam, shaking her arm so that her entire body moved.  
"I. Am. Bored!"  
"Well what do you want me to do about it?!" she cried back, taking an indignant swig of her smoothie. I shrugged my shoulders.  
"I don't know, lapdance, strip tease…I'm not fussy."  
"You are impossible, honestly…" she grumbled, trying to re-find her page.  
"And _you_ sound just like your mother." I replied, sliding off the table and wandering over to the fridge, narrowly avoiding the kick aimed at my rear end. Suddenly, an idea hit me.  
"We could go swimming."  
"Joe, it's nearly ten o'clock at night, are you crazy?!"  
"Are you tired?"  
"No…"  
"Then why the fuck not?"  
Closing her book, she considered the idea for a moment and bit on her lip.  
"Give us ten minutes."  
XXX

I was sitting with my feet dangling in the pool, wrapped in a towel waiting for Rita. The house was fairly standard, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small kitchen and a huge living room: but the pool looked spectacular, especially at night. It was surrounded by greenery and flowers lit up by the little lamps in the shrubbery and the LED lights at the bottom of the pool. It looked like it had been taken straight out of a travel magazine. I almost didn't want to disturb the water, just in case it all vanished. I was snapped out of my thoughts by a furious cry from the house.  
"SHE BOUGHT ME _BIKINIS!_" She hollered as she stormed up to the poolside. She was wearing bog-standard black bikini bottoms that I personally couldn't see a problem with, a dark tank top over the top and a livid expression.  
"I've told her about one hundred times that I hate bikinis and would much rather wear a normal swimming costume but _noo_ she conveniently forgets every single time and buys me one! Do you know what you can do in a bikini?!" she asked, pointing at me vehemently. Not even waiting for a response,she ploughed on. "Nothing. You can do _nothing _in a bikini because it's only designed for sunbathing! You can't swim, you can't dive, you can't do handstands, you can't do _anything _in a bikini! Stop laughing at me goddamnit, this isn't funny! It's alright for_ you_, you don't need to worry about flashing a fucking tit every time you fucking move!"

I couldn't stop. She was ranting away and whilst she ranted she was throwing her arms around and stamping about the poolside like she was in a movie, her hair falling out of its messy ponytail.  
"I'm not laughing at your concern about indecent exposure, I'm laughing because of the _way_ you rant, not what you're ranting about. Just make do with the tank top and we can pick up a proper swimming costume tomorrow. Rita, sit the fuck down and enjoy yourself!"  
She flounced down onto the poolside and splashed her feet into the water beside mine, swishing them back and forth.  
"Thanks." She murmured, bumping my shoulder. We sat there for a while, Rita with her book and me resting my head on her shoulder and reading over her shoulder. Soon, I could feel the boredom seeping back in, so I shoved my towel away, jumped to my feet and pulled off my shirt.  
"Last one in has to cook dinner tomorrow." I smirked, nudging her repeatedly with my foot.  
"I'll freeze my tits off!"  
"C'mon, I'll drag you in if I have to."  
"Like hell you will!" She replied, tossing her book behind her and scrambling to her feet, any concerns about a nip-slip gone.  
"Count of three?"  
"Count of three."  
"One..two…thr- RITA!"  
My countdown was cut prematurely short by a sharp shove from behind. I could hear uncontrollable laughter as I surfaced from the cold water and swam to the poolside with the precision of a shark, flicking my wet hair back from my face. Rita stumbled backwards away from the edge of the pool, barely able to keep herself upright from laughing so hard as I made a grab for her foot- missing by centimeters- and made a dash for the house. Hauling ass out of the pool I ran after her and grabbed her around the waist, easily catching up with her even with my wet feet sliding around on the tiles.  
"Don't you dare! Don't you even d- Joe I _mean _it!" she threatened as I dragged her back towards the pool, the severity somewhat marred by the intermittent snorts and giggles and the weak punches in my general direction. Stumbling slightly as I took a large step back I threw both myself and Rita into the pool, creating a tsunami like wave that left the pool at least a quarter emptier than it was before. Spluttering and choking, Rita surfaced, tugging her hair away from her face with an expression like thunder. I grinned and splashed her. Eyes narrowing, she splashed me back, putting more force behind it. Swimming backwards, I kicked my feet as hard as I could in her face, quickly attempting to stand back upright and regain my balance when I caught her disconcertingly menacing expression. Raising both of my hands in the air in the universal signal for surrender I tried to propel myself away from the danger of being drowned.  
"Come back here and fight like a man!" she mock-snarled, following my every move. I couldn't stop staring at her: there was an almost wild glint in her eyes, her hair had entirely escaped its ponytail from her recent dunk and random strands were clinging to her face, she was breathing heavily and the black tank-top was clinging to her in every way.

_Shit._

"Truce?" Rita called, holding out her hand.  
"Truce. And no fucking around this time." I warned, grabbing her hand and pulling her over. A little too hard, as she slipped on the bottom of the pool and slipped under for a moment. Panicking a little I fumbled for her arms and hoisted her back up, supporting her until she got her breath back.  
"Jesus Christ, that's twice you've almost drowned yourself..." I scolded, setting her back down on her feet, but not letting go, just in case. Rita looked incredulous.  
"One of those times was when you rugby tackled me into the pool, if I remember rightly..." she pointed out, winding my dogtags around her fingers and unintentionally-I hoped- brushing them against my chest. Her fingers paused at the base of my neck before tracing lightly over the pink scar trailing from my ear down wards. Shit shit shit.  
"What happened?" She asked, stroking her thumb over the raised skin. Seeing me swallow, Rita smirked and leaned up, pressing her lips against mine in one swift movement, leaving her hand to caress my neck. I pulled away, a little more than surprised.  
"What was that for?" I asked, still somewhat puzzled.  
"I never get the chance to see you that awkward."  
"Dont get used to it." I mock scolded and bent down to kiss her again, gently lifting her a little so that we were at the same height. I could feel her smiling against my lips and gently wrapped my arms around her to raise her to the same height, rubbing small circles on her hipbones and smirking at the slight hum in response. This time it was her that pulled away and looked a little confused.  
"I think your brain's a bit waterlogged..." I smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
Scoffing, she hauled herself out of the pool and snatched my towel from the poolside, wrapping it around her shoulders and sitting down, once again swishing her feet in the water. I jumped up beside her, albeit with less ease, and stole half of the towel. It wasn't a particularly cold night, but there was a breeze which felt freezing when mixed with wet skin and the towel was pretty comfy. Stifling a yawn, Rita leaned her head on my shoulder and took my hand, weaving her fingers in between mine.  
"Tired?" I asked, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand.  
"The shit I let you talk me into..." she mumbled. I snorted and adjusted my position on the tiles. They were seriously unforgiving on bony asses, it felt like I was sitting on a cattle grid.  
"You know, a thank you would suffice."  
"It's not your job to teach me manners."  
She sat up a little suddenly, not letting go of my hand, and opened her mouth as if she had finally put the final piece in a puzzle that had been plaguing her forever, and closed it again.  
"Joe?" she asked, looking at me as if she hadn't seen me for a year. I let go of her hand and turned to face her, wanting to know what the fuck was going on. It was simultaneously creeping me the hell out and worrying the shit out of me.  
"Rita...are you ok?"  
Her mouth fell open and this time she made no effort to close it. Scraping a hand through her hair she pointed at me, seemingly at a loss for words.  
"You. Them. _THERE."_ She exclaimed, grabbing my arm and shaking me a little.  
"Rita, I don't-"  
"Joseph Liebgott!" she began, a grin spreading across her face as she bounced up and down on the spot, grabbing my hand again and holding it just short of being painfully tight. "Iraq. You got hit by a piece of shrapnel and were the most arrogant little shit I'd ever met! 'A thank you would suffice' – it's what I said to you! Oh my god, don't you see, _it's what I said to you!_"  
My mouth fell open too.  
"I don't believe this..." I thought with a grin as Rita scrambled to her feet and tugged me back towards the house.

**AN: And she's back! Im not too sure where to go from here but I have a vague idea and there should be another Rita POV chapter up soon! Please leave a review and thank you for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**[Rita's POV] Also read Authors note at the end! **

"And that's when I fell through the window and a shard of glass got stuck in my ass. The doctor said it was the best injury he'd seen all month! C'mon Rita, as a fellow clumsy person you should be fucking rejoicing that I didn't have to stay overnight! "  
I stayed silent, slamming the keys into the ignition. My momentary relief at seeing him pretty much unscathed was soon replaced with an irrational anger that I could feel spreading from the pit of my stomach to the very tips of my fingers, my hands clenching around the steering wheel. His relieved grin soon dissolved into a mixture of defiance and slight fear as he gently eased himself into the passenger seat. I hadn't said anything yet.  
"Hey, I'm lucky to get out with just four stitches and a black eye, I think I should get some fucking credit here." He argued, shifting around on his seat to take the pressure off of his sewn up butt cheek. He was fine, just a little pale and a little tender, sitting gingerly with a bagged souvenir of his literal pain in the ass.  
"Joe you went flying through an automatic door backwards and landed on your arse, the worst that could happen would be that you'd break your tailbone. Why the fuck didn't you text me?"  
He scowled at me and went back to glaring out of the window like a petulant child.  
"You're not allowed to text in hospitals." He scowled, plucking at his bottom lip as I reversed the car out of the parking space, soaking the cars either side of us as the car bounced in a water-filled pothole.  
"If it wasn't for your blatant disregard of hospital rules then we wouldn't be here today, would we? It'd be some random taxi driver taking you home and you'd have to make your own soup and clean your own stitches so that is no excuse." I rolled my eyes and pulled out onto the highway, ignoring the cry of protest as I drove over a bumpy stretch of road and sped home.  
"You don't need to be such a bitch about it..."  
"_You could have called me!" _

XXX

It was stormy out. I stalked backwards and forwards in front of the phone, unable to stand still and unable to focus on anything else. _He's probably pulled over so that he doesn't have to drive in the rain..._ I thought, stopping to peer out of the window. Nothing. The pacing resumed. He'd gone for a drive at around four, I gathered that from the note he'd left saying he had to pick up a torch, but as soon as he left the heavens opened, thunder exploding around the sky and the rain so thick it seemed to fall in sheets. That was three hours ago, and needless to say, I was getting more than slightly worried; he wasn't picking up his phone and he hadn't phoned to say that he'd be late. I'd made a few phone calls to my parents to see if he'd made a stop at theirs to wait the storm out, but the calls were in vain.  
"You'll call me if you hear from him?" I'd asked, friends and family reassuring me that yes, of course they'd call. Refusing to think the worst, I lifted my mug from the table and briskly walked to the kitchen and made myself a fifth cup of coffee. The rattling of the rain on the rooftop was usually calming. Today it was aggravating to the point of pure anger, an emotion that took me aback a little as I could usually stay calm. The nervous sickness that sat in the bottom of my stomach seemed to grow larger and larger; I clenched and unclenched my hands until they cramped. There was no way to could escape the feeling of dread that hung over my head. "_He'll be fine" _they had all reassured, but how could they know? This was the kind of weather that had been spent in the past week sitting in front of the television, cocooned in blankets watching a movie, Joe stealing pieces of my seemingly unending supply of popcorn and me accusing him of being a blanket hog. I almost smiled at the memory, but a thunderclap snapped me back into the now. The rain was easing up slightly, the thunking at the roof ebbing to gentle patters. The phone rang suddenly and I all but leapt for it, almost dropping the receiver in my haste.  
"Hello? Rita is that you?" came a hoarse voice from the receiver. I didn't give myself a chance to be relieved as I gripped the phone so tightly I began to feel the plastic buckle in my grip.  
"No, it's fucking Ghandi. Of course it's me you absoloute dickhead, where the hell are you?" I hissed down the phone.  
"Eh, Rita... I may or may not need picked up from A&E. A..h Hint: I do. And preferably soon. I'm freezing my balls off out here."  
I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. Callous though this may sound, I was a war nurse and if he was conscious and could call me to pick him up then in relativity to half of the crap I'd seen in my lifetime he was fine and had no excuse.  
"Joe... _what the actual fuck do you think you-"  
_"I don't want to explain it right now. You'll just take the piss. Just... just come get me,ok? I'm sitting in the bus shelter. Well, not _sitting _, I'm more sort of... hovering but you get the picture. Hello?" _  
_ I slammed the phone back into the receiver and took a deep breath, leaning my head against the wall and let out a moan of both relief and frustration, closing my eyes against the sudden headache battering at my temples. Today was just getting better and better.  
*

Joe was lying on his stomach across the entire bed in his t-shirt and boxers with a tiny fleecy blanket thrown skew-whiff over his to ensure that there was as little pressure as possible being put on his sewn up buttocks. Whilst flicking through the channels and dozing off slightly he was resting a hand on my shoulder and footering with my hair, wrapping it around his fingers and combing through it gently. I was sitting on a beanbag beside the bed with my sketchpad in hand and listening to music through my headphones whilst distractedly rubbing my cheek against Joe's hand. My annoyance had mostly dissipated along with the Chinese we'd picked up on the way home and after a few slagging-offs we were back to normal, abusing each other's taste in television channel and generally poking fun.

"We're watching Fight Club and that's final!" I argued,snatching the remote from his hands.  
"But Green Street Hooligans is on and I haven't seen that in ages! I know for a fact you watched fight club last week."  
"Yes Joe, but Green Street Hooligans sucks!"  
"Give me back the remote, Rita." He growled, trying to grab it back with a scowl. I slowly stood up with a smirk and walked to the other side of the room and held the remote out.  
"Come and get it." Satisfied with the glare I received in return I slowly returned to the bed, leaving the remote sitting on the dresser.  
"You just wait till I can walk about properly..." Joe threatened somewhat sleepily, waggling a finger at me. "I'll get you back when you least expect it."  
"You do that Joe." I smiled, adjusting the pillow at his head and sitting back down on the floor. After a small while I felt the hand on my shoulder slacken and slip off to the side and smiled as I saw that he'd finally fallen asleep. It was around one o'clock and we'd both had a tough day, so instead of waking him to tuck him in properly and risking him being awake and uncomfortable all night, I pulled myself up onto my feet and grabbed a corner of duvet and folded it over him, pushing a chunk of hair away from his face and planting a small kiss on his forehead. Quietly, I shut my laptop and crept out of the room into my bedroom, trying not to slam the door on the way out. I groaned as I saw the state of the room. It was freezing and everywhere within a two metre radius of the window was soaked from the storm battering its way into my room after I, stupidly, forgot to close it before I left.  
"Goddamnit, Rita, you had one job..." I scolded myself, slamming it shut and crawling into bed, shedding clothes as I went. The feeling of the damp sheets was disgusting, the cotton clinging to my skin and the chilly air breezing around like it owned the place was not making it any more enjoyable. After a few more moments of horrific discomfort, I couldn't stand it any longer and tore the bedding away, dragging the sheets through to the kitchen and slamming them into the tumble dryer, cursing every deity I could think of and possibly a few I'd just invented. I filled the kettle, looking forward to a good, strong cup of tea to soothe the once again rising irritation.

Feeling the exhaustion crawl through my bones, I slid down the tumble dryer to rest against it yet ended up lying on the floor, not resisting the sleepiness that washed over me. I closed my eyes and shifted slightly closer to the warm machine.  
"I want be a cat..." I mumbled to myself before dozing off. "Cats don't have to do shit."

***waves shyly from corner* wow...long time no see,huh? Firstly I'd like to apologise for the ridiculous gap inbetween chapter 9 and 10 and this is due to a mixture of exams, the school show, writers block and simply avoiding the task. I've legitimately got no idea where to go with this story (hence the smallness of this chapter) . Like I have a basic outline but I cant find a way to make it **_**interesting **_**and I feel like it has lost some of its plot already and consists of mostly fluff... so yeah don't expect quality stuff. Also I had a message asking if I was gonna write in a sexy times scene and although I am still debating the idea, it's probably going to be a "No". This is because whenever I write a kissing scene I go bright red and struggle to write it so writing about them doin the do isn't gonna be easy for an innocent like myself (ok so im not innocent, per se, I just cant write about intimacy at all) **

**And finally, thank you to those who read or review or anything, it really makes my day! Sorry again for the lack of updates and I'll see you next chapter! **


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